Sherman Mann
Experienced
- Joined
- May 17, 2001
- Posts
- 33
This is just a little post-modern poetry for those of you who, like me, are alone once again tonight. Hope you enjoy. And if not you can lick my ass. I wouldn't be writing this stuff if you were here.
Post-Jizm Poem
Sitting naked in a puddle
Of slime I made myself
Cock still twitching in my hands
Slowly fading to a soft flesh
Ooze to still be cleaned
And forgotten
So much semen thrown away
A quick flick of the wrist
And its gone
Dried and no more
Cum-stained sheets, cum-soaked fingers
Still plying at their trade of manbeef
The flower wilting in the evening twilight
Sliding down to my hips
Between my legs, between my hairs
Farewell, penis, we hardly knew ye
Post-Jizm Poem
Sitting naked in a puddle
Of slime I made myself
Cock still twitching in my hands
Slowly fading to a soft flesh
Ooze to still be cleaned
And forgotten
So much semen thrown away
A quick flick of the wrist
And its gone
Dried and no more
Cum-stained sheets, cum-soaked fingers
Still plying at their trade of manbeef
The flower wilting in the evening twilight
Sliding down to my hips
Between my legs, between my hairs
Farewell, penis, we hardly knew ye
